Surviving Scotland Read Online Free PDF Page A

don’t know your name.”
    Ioan’s expression fell into disbelief, but the woman gave me a caring pat on my hand that was accentuated by her tender gaze.
    “I feared this, aye, I did. The fever was high.” She nodded, continuing to pat my hand. “I’m Morag. Ye’ve known me since ye were a wee lassie.”
    “What do you mean I’ve known you… wait… I’ve lost my memory? But I remember him—” I paused, searching my mind. I remembered his name, but nothing else, just a few scattered impressions. Ioan’s gaze cut to me, his green eyes regarding my expression.
    “Aye, ‘tis true, but donna worry, ye’ll remember soon enough. ‘Til then we’ll help ye along. I tried ta ask ye earlier, but ye fell into that deep sleep. What is the last thing ye remember?”
    I remembered her question, remembered vivid dreams of horses and being unable to breathe.
    “I couldn’t breathe,” I whispered to myself. Ioan coughed and I glanced at him.
    “Elle, we had ta hold ye down. The fever made ye see things that weren’t true. Ye fought mightily, ye did. We finally held ye fast, but by then ye had worked yerself up inta such a lather that I was worried yer heart would burst. I’m sorry if I was too hard on ye. I dinna want ye ta hurt yerself.”
    Ioan’s tone was apologetic, but was edged with fear. He shuffled his feet and broke eye contact. A muscle in his jaw twinged as he clenched and unclenched his teeth and flexed his hands back and forth.
    “I understand.” I almost died.
    “All’s well now, lassie. Do ye remember anything afore that?”
    I closed my eyes to concentrate. A vision of Ioan standing without his shirt flashed through my mind but quickly disappeared, leaving me to wonder if I had dreamed that as well. The feeling of being on the brink of remembering assaulted me, and I waited for everything to find its place in my mind. But it didn’t happen.
    “I don’t know. I remember flashes and images of things that could have taken place, but I don’t know if they are real or a dream I had when my fever raged.”
    Defeated, I slumped back onto the bed.
    “Ye will remember lass, ye will.” Ioan nodded but I wasn’t as positive. I stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out my next step. If I were to be lost in my own mind, then I might as well begin asking questions.
    “Where am I?”
    Ye’re in Bann Keep. A part o’ Carnasserie Castle. Ye’ve lived yer whole life here.” Ioan spoke carefully, but there was a fear that lurked in his green eyes.
    “Your accent… It’s Scottish, is it not?”
    “Aye.”
    “Why don’t I speak like you if I’ve lived here my whole life?”
    Ioan and Morag traded glances. Surely I wasn’t the only one who noticed how my voice didn’t follow their brogue?
    “I donna ken lass… perhaps from the fever as well?” Morag answered after a moment.
    I nodded, unsure and still confused. I breathed deeply, sorting through this new information.
    “What of my family?”
    Morag’s glance fell to the floor and Ioan stiffened beside her. More bad news.
    “Ye are in the care o’ yer Uncle Maol, laird of the castle and Clan Campbell. Yer parents have both been gone for some time.
    My eyes filled with tears for a family I didn’t remember but mourned the loss of anyway. A moment passed in silence before I drew together my strength to ask a few more questions. My eyes flicked to Ioan; just who was he?
    “And how do I know you?” As Ioan’s eyes widened, I hastened to explain. “I remember your name, and you are familiar, yet anything beyond that is jumbled, I’m afraid.”
    Ioan glanced to Morag before answering.
    “Ioan is a foster from a nearby Campbell clan. He’s been with ye for most o’ yer life.” Morag said.
    “I was, “he paused and cleared his throat, “injured in battle, and me regiment sent me here to assist yer uncle.” He hesitated before continuing. “On me way ta the castle, I found ye in the Kilmartin Glen. Ye were hidin’, likely ‘cause ye